Protecting You
by itsapaigeturner
Summary: Mia Cena has a dark, troubled past. Growing up in the protective shadow of her older brother, she is left broken and alone when he enters the world of wrestling. Now, fifteen years later, she decides to join him on the road. What will happen when a mysterious Dean Ambrose tries to insert himself into her life and protect her himself? (slight AU)
1. Chapter 1

**Definitely a new idea that was playing around in my head. A Dean Ambrose x OC pairing was the winner of my couple's poll back a few weeks ago! Sorry that it's taken me this long to bring this together...**

**Before I begin, I just want to point out that the inspiration for the story came from my reading and _re-reading _of the story My Pretty Beautiful by Eryessa. I loved the concept, and after playing around with a character with a troubled past on my own, I think I was able to reach my own little story. Originally, I was going to change the character of John, but I couldn't think of an alternative. I hope it all works, and let me know what your thoughts are!**

**Any questions/concerns? Feel free to let me know!**

**Disclaimer: I do NOT own any characters/storylines that you recognize. I only own Mia, who is my OC. All persons mentioned whom you recognize belong to WWE! Thank you!**

**Enjoy! :)**

* * *

Some think that growing up with someone as...influential as John Cena would be a dream come true of a dream that I never even dreamt. And, the part of never having that dream is beyond the truth. Having John Cena as my protective older brother had its benefits. I never had to worry about that creepy kid in my history class trying to make a move on me, despite his best efforts to persuade my brother. I never had to worry about being dumped by a boy...not because I was _perfect_ by any means. They were just always too afraid to get their skull bashed in my brother.

And, I never got tired of saying _"Do you know who my brother is?" _or _"I'm a Cena. Do you know what that means?" _and even _"Do you know John Cena? Well, you're about to get to know his fists really well." _He always knew how to cheer me up too. Whether it was when I was six years old and I fell off my bike and he pulled me out of the street, propped me up on his knee and kissed the scratch, or when it was when I was thirteen and I had my first boyfriend and he broke up with me for my best friend so John cornered him after last period and scared him so badly that we didn't see him for an entire week.

But then I turned sixteen and everything changed. John left home, going farther than he'd ever gone before, leaving me alone to fend for myself while he pursued his wrestling dream. And, it was hard at first. It got better after a few weeks when my parents and I began to adjust to life without him. And then...it happened.

It's still hard to talk about, actually. Even if it's been fifteen years and counting, I still can't pull myself together long enough to talk about it.

It was a cold night. Not particularly cold, like there was going to be some dramatic storm or something, just cold. Cold enough to make me wear a jacket when I went outside, but not cold enough to make my parents adjust their thermostat. There was an eeriness to that night, even before anything bad happened. Like the universe was warning me that something bad was about to go down, but I didn't listen.

I was, and never again, deaf to the universe.

My friend, Camille, was throwing herself a party because her parents were out of town. I thought it would be fun to get out, considering how lonely my life back at my house had gotten. The silence. The emptiness in the hallways. I needed a break from the break. And a loud, head-banging party seemed like a wonderful alternative to the quiet life I'd been growing used to.

I've always been a fast learner. You know, for some people it'll take them up until their third or fourth time getting burned before they realize that it'll hurt when they play with fire. I guess I was just born with the notion that if you feel wrong about something, it isn't the right way to go. So, just feeling the heat radiating off the match and onto my skin was enough for me to know that pressing my flesh down onto the fire wouldn't end well.

And, I never got burned.

But something about that night...it was different. My senses were off. Normally, I wouldn't dare go near the scent of alcohol. Not to say that John had never come home late at night with the smell of beer lingering around her body - he'd just always tried to install it in me that getting hammered wasn't going to erase my problems.

My problem that night was myself. And the further I could get away from myself, the better off I felt. So I downed the first bottle. I was well into my second before something kicked in that things weren't right. I couldn't find my jacket. I needed to find my jacket.

Things were weird. I suddenly got this anxious feeling in my stomach like something was going to explode within me at any second. I needed to get out of that house. But it was too crowded, and I couldn't remember where I put my jacket. It felt like hours before I got the front of the house, the last place I remembered having it.

"Mia."

I looked over my shoulder and recognized the face staring at me immediately. Clint Terrance. He was John's age, which meant he was eight years older me, and one of the few people who was at the party who could legally be doing half the things we all were.

"Hi," I managed to say loud enough that he could hear me.

"You're already heading out?" He gestured toward the door, which we both were inching closer and closer to.

I cleared my throat, but he didn't hear me. Sliding my hands into my pockets, I shook my head. "Just looking for my jacket."

Tilting his head to the side, he furrowed his eyebrows. "What does it look like?"

Clint and John weren't close. In fact, when I was younger, John used to come home from school all the time and complain about how annoying he was. I can't even recall the number of times Clint had pissed John off. Even when we were all too young to understand why he did it, we all knew that Clint Terrance loved to give people a hard time.

And at twenty-two years old, I wasn't too sure that anything had changed.

"It's blue," I eventually told him. "With lighter blue stitching," I added. Not that it would probably matter to him, I still said it.

He pretended to think. Even as hard as I could tell he was trying, I knew that he was faking the sincere thinking. Just before I had the chance to blow him off and continue my search for it myself, he began to speak.

"You know, I think I saw Camille taking all the jackets to a room upstairs. I can show you the way...I think I remember."

Like I said, I'm usually a fast learner. But for some reason, I didn't use my brain. I didn't think about the way he used to treat John. I just followed him upstairs.

Once we got to the room where he told me that Camille had taken the stranded jackets, I entered on my own, thinking - or hoping - that he would go away. But, he didn't. He walked in behind me, and before I could turn around to see what he was doing, he closed and locked the door.

I still can't talk about what happened next. Too scarring. Too painful. Too...unbearable to relive. And that's what happens. Every time I think about it, I relive it.

I didn't tell anyone. Keeping it locked up was easier for me to deal with than letting the world know that I had been taken advantage of by John's childhood nemesis. A man who wasn't even supposed to be at some high school party.

I moved on, or at least I tried to. I explained my strange bruises by saying that I was clumsy. And for someone who never lied about anything, my parents ate that one up. Easily. And for the first time since I was born, when John came back to town, I didn't ask him to make me feel better about it.

In my mind, it never happened. And pretending that it never happened worked. Still works. Unless something reminds me directly of that night, it's just something that didn't happen. Just like it wasn't supposed to.

* * *

"You? Mia Cena? Coming to the WWE?" John shook his head and snorted out a laugh, bringing the hand that once draped his girlfriend Nikki's shoulder to his open mouth. "Are we talking about the same girl who still jumps at spiders?"

Nikki turned to him with a silent gasp. "I still jump at spiders, and I work with you."

"This..._This_ is different." He looked at me, and I couldn't tell whether he was happy to hear the news or not. "So, what exactly is it that you'll be doing?"

Glad that he finally believed me, I crossed my left leg over my right leg. "You'll be oh-so surprised to know that it doesn't involve me having airtime." I looked from John over to Nikki and shrugged. "I'm going to be working with the creative writing team."

Another laugh escaped his smiling lips. "Creative writing...you always did have a soft spot for literature."

"And," I continued, "the best part is that I'm going to leaving with you on Sunday."

"You'll get to see Summerslam live?" Nikki asked, clearly excited for me.

Honestly, I've always adored Nikki. She's been one of the greatest lights to ever be shone into John's life. Especially after his life-altering divorce and his painful recovery from it. I really didn't know if he was ever going to find someone who could heal his wounds. I'd already met Nikki at an old event when I went with my father to watch John, so when he announced that they were a couple, I was pleasantly surprised.

"I'll get to see Brie kick Stephanie's butt!" I joked. I knew how much work she and her sister, whom I also loved, had put into this storyline rivalry with the company's biggest chess piece. So, the fact that it was all coming to a close with a big bang was exciting. Not just for them, but for everyone who cared about them as well.

Nikki smiled even brighter. "I can't wait to tell everyone. Brie will love this! And, you'll even get to be on Total Divas," she suggested, glancing in my brother's direction.

Suddenly, I could see his protective nature begin to unfold. "I don't know about that, Nicole. Mia hasn't always been a fan of spotlight."

"It wouldn't be like she'll _join _the show. She would just make appearances," she explained. "Like you."

Afraid that he was going to explode on her, I jumped in. "John's right. I've never been good around cameras."

"We'll still have to go shopping," she rested her case and raised her eyebrows at me. I nodded in response and looked at John, who reached into his pocket as his phone went off.

"I have to take this," he excused himself and exited the room, the sound of his phone call greeting remaining in the room.

Nikki watched as he left and walked over so that she was sitting next to me. "I know that you were just saying that to make John feel better. He's really protective of you," she told me.

"Always has been."

"I, for one, think it's adorable." She giggled and handed me a glass of what smelt like beer. I politely declined it. "Really? You're still not drinking?"

I shrugged it off. "Drinking just isn't my thing."

"And it hasn't for, what?" She pretended to think, looking up at the ceiling before returning her glance at me. "Eight years? Have you _ever _had a drink?"

Her tone was light and clearly meant to be friendly, but thinking about how embarrassing it was to be the only twenty-nine who didn't have a drinking habit. And, while I felt physically fine, emotionally I was a little torn.

"Yes," I retorted before forcing a smile. "And, like I said, it's just not my thing."

She narrowed her eyes at me in a teasing manner, which I shook off. John returned to the room and stuffed his phone back into his pocket.

"Sorry for the interruption," he apologized. Nikki and I shook our heads and he ran a hand over his. "That was my manager. Looks like I'm having to fly out earlier than expected for a pre-match interview."

Nikki dropped her head to the side in what appeared to be disappointment. "I was just getting comfortable," she whined. Another thing about her...she tends to complain. I still adore her. She just likes to make the worst out of everything sometimes.

"You could always stay with me," I suggested before looking down. "But, you'd have to fly coach with me."

After receiving looks from both John and I, she agreed to leave earlier with John, which I knew she was going to choose. I was just hoping that I wouldn't have to fly alone.

"Why don't you come along, too?"

I looked at the brunette in front of me with wide, confused eyes. "You want me to fly out with you guys?"

John shrugged after Nikki gave him a begging look. "It would be nice to have my baby sister flying out with me." I knew that what he was really saying was that he would feel better knowing that I was safe sitting next to him, rather than flying with a hundred strangers who he was afraid were going to take advantage of the fact that I was alone.

Sure, I would feel safer next to the two people in this entire world besides my parents who I love. And sure, I would rather fly on a private jet rather than spend a few hours with a bunch of people who I don't know. But, I'm not too keen on taking handouts. Just..._not my thing_.

"C'mon, Mia," Nikki begged. "Don't make me pack your little body in a suitcase and take you with me."

Of course she directs the attention in the room to my 5'3" figure. Pick on the little ones. Class act, Nikki. Class act.

I relinquished a sigh. "Alright. Fine. But, I don't want to hear you two having...fun during the flight."

Knowing that John would never risk tainting my innocence, I wasn't surprised when he muttered the word, "deal."

* * *

**There's the first chapter. I promise that the next one will have more action involved. I just wanted to get the first one up there. :) **

**Should I continue...?**

**Up next:**

_**Mia meets a...mysterious Dean Ambrose. **_


	2. Chapter 2

The plane ride was wonderful. I'd only been on a plane twice, but it was to New York and back for my senior year trip back in high school. Everywhere else that I traveled I went by a car. Driving was one of my relaxation methods.

Throughout the flight, I continued to study the landscapes out the window. We were having to fly all the way from my apartment in Massachusetts to Los Angeles, a place that I'd never been before. Honestly, the idea of being thousands upon thousands of feet in the air was frightening, but I was trying my best not to think too hard about it.

"Everything okay?"

I turned to John, who had positioned himself next to me while Nikki was freshening up in the private bathroom. I let a small smile appear on my lips. I knew that he had been watching my eyes scan the world beneath us, and I knew that my face probably showed how scared it truly made me.

"Yeah," I muttered. "It's really weird, how small everything looks."

He chuckled a bit before covering his mouth when he noticed the embarrassed look on my face. "Sorry," he quickly spoke. "You've...you've been on a plane before, right? Didn't you go on that trip to New York when you were eighteen? I thought mom and dad told me that you did."

I nodded. "I did. But, I didn't have the window seat and I wore my seatbelt the whole time," I admitted. The thought of being so high up in the air had been freaking me out months prior to actually going on the trip, so the minute I got on the plane I buckled myself in. Tight.

"I wish I could have gone with you." John rested his hand on my shoulder and I returned my glance to the window. We were almost there, and I wanted to soak up my first taste of the real world before I had to apply the pressure of work to my schedule.

"You're going to love the company," John continued on. "The majority of the workers are great, and if you meet the right people you'll have friends in no time."

Releasing a sigh, I relaxed against the couch I was sitting on, removing my eyes from the window. "I'm sure that I will."

"Hey," he said, bringing his hand to my face and turning my head gently so that our eyes were meeting. "Don't be afraid to branch out while you're there."

"Being myself isn't good enough?" I knew as soon as I said it, he would get upset with me. Ever since he became the famous _John Cena _I'd been living in his shadow. And, for awhile, it was awesome. I was making so many friends and getting a lot more attention. But, then those friends turned out to be nothing more than a bunch of fame-seeking liars, and the attention was used to get an autograph.

While he's never actually said it out loud, I've always known. I'm an embarrassment to the Cena family name. Always have been, always will be.

"That's not what I was going to say," he said sharply. "You know that I think you're great. And, being yourself is enough. It's better than enough."

Before I could respond, a swooning Nikki entered the room with an audible "aw."

"You are so adorable when you talk about Mia," she cooed, sitting down next to my brother and throwing her arms around his shoulder. "What were you two talking about?"

I peered over to my brother, who gave a casual shrug. "Family stuff," he lied.

John might be a great wrestler, boyfriend, and spokesperson, but I never said he was a saint.

Silence followed and Nikki shook off the conversation. Eventually, they both seemed to forget that I was even in the same proximity as them because they were wrapped up in each other's embrace. I'll be honest, I envy their relationship. Even though it's extremely public for my taste, it's still what they want.

John's told me about Nikki's desire to start a family, and he wasn't quiet about explaining his reasoning against it. I chose not to get in the middle of the argument. Me? I'd like to have a child or two someday down the road. But, it we're all being real, I haven't kissed a man let alone been intimate with one since I was sixteen. And the reasoning behind that one hopefully doesn't need an explanation.

Thirty minutes later we found ourselves landing on a secluded runway in California. As soon as I stepped off the plane, I took in the deepest breath I'd ever taken. California air felt so different streaming through my lungs than Massachusetts' air. Not as clean, but not bad.

My satisfying moment of awe ended as a giggle came from Nikki, who was sheepishly standing behind me. Turning back, I gave her a confused - and hopefully not too painful - look.

"I'm not judging," she said, raising her hands like she were surrendering. "I forgot that this was your first time away from home."

"Not my first time." I grabbed my bag and threw it over my shoulder. "Just my first time knowing that I might not be going back."

She laughed again and walked toward me, placing a hand on my shoulder. "You'll be heading back home sooner than you think. John and I, surprisingly, find a lot of time to spend around our house." She leaned in and gave me a smirk. "Play your cards with the company right and they'll let you have all the time off in the world."

* * *

The arena is so different compared to the way it's portrayed on television. There _is _white bricked walls and concrete floors, for the most part. And there _is _a section for catering and interviews. But for the major part of the building, it's being used as a warm-up room.

Dozens of men and women jog around the halls in their shorts and tank-tops, occasionally stopping to do lunges or squats. Randomly, they jump out from behind corners and sprint for minutes on end. I don't want to recall the amount of times I almost leaped into John's arms as we walked down the halls due to the sporadic appearances of strangers.

Everyone was nice, but I could tell that it wasn't all too sincere. Some of the people were only being polite because I was John's sister. And, although they wouldn't come out and say anything, I knew it to be true.

"This is my locker room," John said as he through down his bag. I thought about doing the same, but kept it in my arms.

"Mine is down the hall," Nikki spoke up before planting a kiss on John's lips. "There's a big sign on the door. No way you can miss it." She nodded to the both of us and dragged her suitcase out the door and down the hall.

I felt uncomfortable. There was a slight chill in the room. John saw me shiver and walked over to me, resting his hands on my shoulders. "Stop being so nervous."

"I'm not nervous," I retorted. "It's just cold."

"Then take my jacket." He went over to his bag and pulled out a sweatshirt and tossed it to me.

I slowly put it on, slightly embarrassed. "Sorry," I muttered.

"About what?" He planted himself on a steel chair, and visions of people being torn apart by a chair identical to it flashed through my mind. I'd never actually gotten into wrestling, I'd decided. While the violence had been severely reduced over the years, it was still too much for me at times. And something about the fact that John was sitting on the very weapon that has destroyed careers was metaphorical.

I shook my head and found the power to put my bag on one of the many benches around the room. "I feel like I'm being a burden."

He looked up at me and sighed. He pulled a chair out from behind him and patted it with his hand. "Come here," he said.

I walked over to him and sat down in the chair, staring off into the distance.

"Mia..." he trailed off. "Mia, Mia, Mia..." He rubbed his hand over his head and then draped his arm behind me, resting it on the chair since I was leaning forward. "You aren't burdening me. You aren't burdening Nikki, and you sure as hell aren't burdening anybody else here. You wouldn't have been offered a contract if you were going to be a burden."

I wanted to point out that I felt like I was only here because I was a Cena, but I kept that swallowed down. "Maybe they were wrong about me."

"They don't make those kind of mistakes. Now, look at me." I looked at him. "Do you trust me?"

I nodded. "Of course I do."

"Then believe me when I say that you're going to do just fine here. Without my help, I must add."

Looking down, I felt my face grow red with more embarrassment. But, I was used to feeling that way.

"Okay," I managed to choke up.

After we talked some more, mostly about how his night was going to work, I offered to go fetch him something to eat or drink. Knowing that I needed to get to know the place better on my own, he reluctantly agreed to let me go alone.

The hallways were long and my legs grew tired as I walked. It was then that I realized how out of shape I was compared to everyone else around me. All the other people were sprinting around this arena without a single thought, and if I had attempted it I would've passed out before I turned the first corner.

I eventually found my way to the catering area where they had the water and a generous selection of snacks. I looked around before carefully grabbing a bottle of water a plate where I put some chicken and salad. I figured that he would need something heavy enough to stay down and light enough to allow him to move freely.

Just as I was about to leave, I felt someone's eyes on me. I took a deep breath before turning around slightly.

I immediately recognized Dean Ambrose looking at me with selective eyes. I opted not to say anything to him and turned back. I began to walk away, trying to forget that I'd noticed him. But, before I could get too far, I heard slightly heavy breathing from behind me.

"What's your name, pretty lady?"

I gulped silently and turned around, clutching the plate and water bottle in my hands tightly. I was actually glad that he didn't recognize me off the bat. Some people like to tease me that I look a lot like John, and even though neither of us actually see it, it was a common comment.

"Mia," I coughed up. "Mia Cena."

He nodded and I could see him working his tongue up the roof of his mouth. "John's little sister, eh?"

It was my turn to nod, so I did. "By eight years," I felt that I needed to add along.

"I must say," he began, "you're definitely better looking than your brother." He raised his eyebrows at me as if I were supposed to respond in some flirtatious way, but I couldn't.

I've never been good at flirting.

"Thank you." I forced a smile, but it disappeared as fast as it appeared.

I felt his eyes slightly drop down and look at the rest of me. The blood in my body all seemed to rush to my face and I knew that my cheeks were red. It had been so long since a man had taken interest in me like that, and even longer since I'd appreciated it.

"You're a wrestler too?"

I shook my head and shifted so that he would return his eyes to mine. "I'm a writer. Working on the creative team."

"The creative team," he trailed it off. "You're the gifted kind."

"I could say the same thing about you. With your...athletic ability."

A smirk crept up onto his face and he pursed his lips together tightly. "Good one," he said. He turned on his heels and walked away from me, and I watched him leave. He didn't turn back to see me, he just walked around the corner and I didn't see him again for the rest of the night.

Part of me wanted him to stay, but I immediately felt guilty about it. After all, I didn't come here to be involved romantically with anybody.

Even if the men around here were more gorgeous than any other guy I'd ever seen in the flesh before.

* * *

**My obsession with Dean has returned...and my heart aches all the time now...oh my...I've lost my mind.**

**Please let me know what you thought about this chapter! Not the best, but it'll get better. :)**

**Up next:**

_**Mia begins to realize how difficult life on the road gets...and it's only her second week.**_


	3. Chapter 3

**SummerSlam - August 17th, 2014**

**Staples Center in Los Angeles, CA**

* * *

I'll admit it: seeing Nikki stumble out from behind the curtain with an expressionless face was unnerving.

It was like she had no problem punching her own flesh-and-blood right in the face. As soon as she saw me, her face lit up and she embraced me in a tight hug.

"You okay?" I asked; she seemed too happy.

"A little tired and worried for John," she admitted as she pulled apart from me. "But other than that? Couldn't be better."

I bit my tongue before I could ask any questions that would be considered a waste of her time and watched her walk off in the direction of John's locker room. Part of me wanted to follow her, see what she was really feeling. And then something told me that she wasn't really feeling anything.

That thought made me cringe. How could that be? I would never - _ever _- be able to do that to John. Not that I would have to, and considering John isn't my twin, I don't think it would have the same emotional impact.

Moments later, a victorious Stephanie McMahon made her way through the curtain with her hands still wrapped around her loving husband, Paul. I envied them in that moment. Seeing how happy they were to just be around one another. Even if everything that went down out there was scripted, you wouldn't be able to tell. They were so wrapped up in the feelings that were inside of them that they were engulfed in each other.

So what if that's what I want?

I wasn't really sure of what I was still doing there. It wasn't until Brie, Nikki's twin sister, walked into the room. You could see the pain she was feeling as she was greeted by her husband, Bryan.

"You did good, Babe," I heard him mumble into her ear as she crashed into his chest.

"Thanks."

A smile crept onto her face and I realized something. This all really was scripted. She didn't seem the slightest bit affected by having her sister turn her back against her. By watching Nikki join forces with the WWE's "bad side".

It's all just one big game.

"Shouldn't you be encouraging your big brother before he gets his ass kicked by Brock Lesnar?"

I nearly jumped as the first word poured out of his mouth. Looking up with my hand pressed against my chest, I let out a deep breath.

"Goodness," I said, "Dean." He was looking at me with his bright blue eyes and my mind melted.

"You remember me?" He seemed honestly shocked.

I slightly shrugged. "Should I not?" My cheeks were suddenly hot and I could tell that they were probably red. I wasn't sure why, but I had a feeling that it was Dean's presence that was making me so infinitesimal.

His head shook and his shoulders barely raised and dropped. "No...I mean I guess there's not a reason why you shouldn't but our conversation the other day wasn't exactly something to remember."

"Well," I said, "I suppose I have a good memory then."

He looked at me as if he were trying to read me before rubbing his chin and walking off. I just stood there, still feeling strange after what I'd witnessed minutes before, but I didn't make any use of my confusion.

Time passed by and I stood there, in front of the large monitor - using my new identification card that proved I was an employee every time someone walked by me and asked to see it - watching different wrestlers walk past me until I saw their faces light up on the screen in front of me.

It wasn't much longer until a large set of hands gently hugged me from behind.

"Wish me luck," John said and he kissed the back of my head.

I turned around and smiled at him. "Good luck." I looked down at the shining titles that he was placing around his neck and I had to hold back a gasp. He'd brought home his titles in the past, but this time felt so different. As I looked down and saw my reflection in a golden hue, I could barely recognize myself. Before I had the chance to question my lack of understanding, the championships moved and I could no longer see a reflection. All I saw was the deep red color of John's shirt.

"You should go sit with Nikki in my locker room. The monitor is already set up."

I pulled a strand of hair behind my ear and tried not to look him in the eyes. "I think I'm going to stay behind."

"What - why? There's a couch in there and everything."

A small, friendly laugh left my parted lips as they curved into a smile. "Do you want my honest answer?"

He looked at me as if there was no need for the question at all. What other answer could he possible want?

"I'm a little scared for you," I admitted. He rolled his eyes at me, and I shook my head. "I'm serious! I'm scared for you. Not that I've actually seen Brock Lesnar in person, but I've seen what he's done to you in person, and that was scarring." He tried to look away, so I walked until I was in front of his face again. "Just...try not to kill yourself out there, okay?"

A smile of his own appeared on his face and he brought me close into a tight hug. "I promise you," he began before letting me go, "I'll be fine."

I didn't respond, but instead allowed him to walk off in a different direction. I supposed that he was going to be waiting until Brock entered the ring before he went out, but it didn't satisfy me. Minutes passed by and I stood there with my backside pressed against a table uncomfortably, waiting for him to return.

But, it took him awhile.

After some time, a heavy set man followed by a smaller, yet intellectually intimidating man, entered the area. Neither of them made eye contact with me, but it didn't matter. I knew who they were.

Brock and Paul stood beside each other, Paul whispering something while Brock looked on. I partially wanted to go up and introduce myself. To let him know that John had a family that would miss him dearly if anything severe were to happen to him. To show him that there was much more to life besides hurting people. But, I held myself back.

His music hit, and the dynamic duo walked through the curtains and left my line of sight. As soon as they left, the cold air that filled the room exited as well.

But, ease of mind didn't come.

John re-entered the area and adjusted the titles around his shoulders. One of the crew members pressed a single button that was surrounded by a billion other buttons and his entrance music began. With one final glance over his shoulder, he simply winked.

And if I had known what was about to happen, I would've winked back.

We all thought that his head was going to fall off with every suplex that he received. Even as he fought back, I knew that he wasn't going to step out of the arena with those titles. I knew that something was going to end tonight.

It was only a matter of time.

I counted sixteen, as did all the other people who were watching the same monitor as me. As did Dean Ambrose, who just had to come all the way back to stand right beside me as it happened.

"That makes sixteen," he said aloud, "I think."

I shook my head and covered my eyes. Everything was so lopsided for me. "Definitely sixteen," I confirmed.

"Probably gonna leave a mark."

I fought the urge to slap him and turned around and began pacing down the halls. I continued to pace until I heard the roaring crowd coming from the arena. And then I heard Brock's music begin to play and I stopped moving. I stood there and I waited for John to come back. And, when he did I lost all control.

He didn't even say a word. And everyone around me stared on as if I had lost my mind for getting so worried about him, but I couldn't help it. He was my brother, my flesh and blood. I suppose that everyone forgot that outside of these arenas' halls, family still means something besides a storyline. And, even if I'm standing within these hallow halls, I'm still putting John above the storyline; above the job.

That's what families are supposed to do.

* * *

We spent the week after SummerSlam in hiding, basically. John only took calls from his manager, me, or Nikki. She spent the week flying around, shopping and avoiding me for some reason. I figured it was due to my awkward glances and the astonished faces I made every time someone brought up what had happened that night.

Shortly after, Dean disappeared. In reality, we all knew that he was off filming a movie that he referred to - more than once - as the "only thing standing in my way of getting that title". Not that he was in direct line for the title, but we all knew what he meant.

Then, what felt like years later, it was already October and things with Nikki and her twin were settling down. Not getting better, just dwindling down as if they were being forgotten. I began to work diligently on scenes and promos for John, which ended up throwing me into work with Seth Rollins. And then, before you knew it I was writing scenes between my brother and the mysterious Dean Ambrose.

Dean and I...we were acquaintances. We talked casually, and he always showed up at peculiar times. But we were never really...friends - if that's even the right word. He was polite, I was cordial. We chatted, occasionally laughed, I handed him his lines and he walked away.

Until one day when the elevator wouldn't move.

The air had an uneasy chill to it, but I'd grown fond of the silent tranquility that remained even when there were butterflies in my stomach. So, naturally, I thought nothing too drastically about it.

I was already late; something that John warned me about.

_"Never...EVER...be late to a meeting. Especially if a McMahon is going to be there. Because if you do, you'll face the wrath of the McMahons and then I'll have to go talk to the McMahons and then the McMahons will view you as just another Cena who can get away with anything."_

I remember glaring at him before responding, "So, that's how you get away with everything."

I pressed that elevator button for what felt like a dozen times before it finally opened. It wasn't everyday that I got to stay in a high-class hotel and it certainly wasn't everyday that I got to present my writings in front of a board of well-respected writers. My chest began to pound away.

Finally the doors opened and I scrambled inside, gently squeezing my arms around the papers and clenching them tightly to my chest. I was just about to press the 'lobby' button when a familiar face stormed in next to me.

"Dean," I muttered, just audible enough for him to hear.

He turned his head and I could see him smile through my peripheral vision. "Baby Cena!"

I could tell that he hadn't recognized me when he'd entered, and something in my chest broke. "It's Mia," I corrected him, giving him a friendly, yet borderline, stern smile. "Mia Cena."

"Well, then Mia Cena," he teased, "where would you be heading?"

"A meeting with the Creative Board." I shot him a look. "Stephanie's going to be there."

He threw his head back and the doors in front of us came to a close. "The dangerous Stephanie McMahon. I see that you don't seem to worried about her presence at said meeting. Someone getting a little confident with their big brother being John Ce-"

I turned my body fully to him, stopping him from completing his sentence. "John has nothing to do with this. I'm my own person and this is _my _job." My face was growing red, I could feel it. I wasn't very good at standing up for myself and I suddenly felt extremely embarrassed for having blown up at him that way. Sighing, I turned back so I was facing the doors before sputtering, "I'm sorry."

All I heard was a chuckle followed by silence. And then another chuckle.

"What?" I asked. He must have sensed some innocence in me then because he quickly retracted the look of amusement from his face.

He shook his head. "It's...it's nothing."

"You laughed," I pointed out. "Twice."

"You're funny." He looked at me. "You're just...you make me laugh, okay?"

What. Was. His. Deal? "I just apologized to you, and it made you laugh?" We looked at each other for a second and my heart jumped. "Excuse me for finding a problem with that."

"You're excused."

We stood in silence for a second before he broke out in another laugh. And, then I - forgive me - I lost it.

"Seriously!" I had to force myself not to giggle along with him, his laugh was contagious. "You're doing it again!"

"Okay, okay! I promise, that's it."

My eyebrows were furrowed in and I was grasping tightly onto my folder so I wouldn't drop any of my writings. "Tell me, please, tell me what's so funny."

"Your apology." He stuffed his hands into his pockets. "You sounded so...sincere."

With every word of his, I felt like I was being suffocated. Like he was holding me by my throat and with every word that escaped his lips, he tightened his clench around me. And then we were just drifting in silence. Me, staring at him, lost for my life. And then there was him, the ringleader. The one who controlled the ropes and could do anything to me and I would feel obligated to follow him.

And we _just _met.

I was about to counter his strange explanation when there was a rapid shake and the lights in the small space gave out, just like my knees. I fell to the floor and dropped all my papers. They were suddenly illuminated by the emergency light that quickly turned on and I watched as they fluttered down by my side.

"Are you okay?" Dean bent down to my side and offered his hand, but I quickly turned and began to shuffle my papers.

Sweat was forming at the base of my neck and I could feel the walls begin to close in on me. I've never been claustrophobic. I've never been agoraphobic. But being in that small space and not in the comfort of my hotel room, where I could be all alone...it was overwhelming to say the least.

"You need to call for help!" My heart was racing and my mind was spinning. "See if you have service! Use the emergency phone! Hell, start screaming if you have to!" I stood up and looked him in the eyes, frantically dropping my papers. "Just get me out of here!"

"Calm down, Mia!" His hands were placed on my shoulders now, roughly. "We're going to be fine!"

I started to weep. Okay, full-on cry. I fell down to floor, covering my face with my hands. By the time I'd finished, Dean was sitting against the doors, his head tapping the doors in rhythm. My hands stained with tears, I quickly ran them across the legs of my pants and curled up into a ball in the corner.

"It's about time you stopped," he complained.

My mind screamed "How dare you! Can't you see I just had a mental-freaking-breakdown and all you're going to do is complain?" But, my heart and every other organ in me told me that he was probably right. I overreacted. I made a fool of myself. He would probably tell the entire roster that John Cena's baby sister is a lunatic who should be locked up as soon as possible.

So, we both said nothing.

Within minutes the doors were unlocked and I was able to breathe again. I crawled out of the elevator, lightly brushing past Dean as I made my way. As soon as I hit the lobby's floor, I wiped my eyes and stood up.

Dean followed shortly behind. I turned when he tapped my shoulder and he handed me my folder with every paper neatly lined back up inside. I was going to thank him when he nodded his head and walked across the room and out the front doors, allowing the light from the sun to shine in on my face.

* * *

**Much too long since I've last updated, but better late than never. I'll work on sorting together "Drift" and I'll hopefully have that up sometime this weekend! Let me know what you thought and I'll see you all in the next update!**

**Up Next:**

_**Mia struggles to understand the business...and Dean's presence isn't helping.**_


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